The Sons of St Jude
by Bart Chamber
Summary: AU Origins of the Acolytes, and the darkness that they hold within. Also discover what secrets they hold, that will shock even Logan and Creed. Plus its got your usual dash of ROMY later on.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own anything….pity: P

Summery: AU Origins of the Acolytes, and the darkness that they hold within.

Ships – Mainly romy later on in the story.

I kind of suck at writing accents I will try when I can, but if anyone would like they can write them for me just send them to me

St. Jude – Patron Saint of Lost Causes

Ages: Rest will be mentioned later as the chapter progress .

Remy – 20John – 19Piotr – 20

A/N: Reposted due to some errors, slight changes also made, hope that the errors are fixed, if not gimme a heads up please. Thanks.

Ratings: Mature

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**The Sons of St Jude**

Chapter 1: Memories of Fire

Fire, it was everywhere surrounding him and all he held dear. The scorching flames held back by his will alone.

"Johnny! You have to get out here!" his Father shouted over roar of the flames before he began to choke on a lungful of smoke.

"Sorry dad, cant let you burn" the boy shouted back, a maniacal grin on his face. His concentration at his peak, every once, every fibre of his being focused on keeping the fire at bay. Stopping it from consuming any more of their home than it already had.

His gazed searched the room, hunting for a way out, or at least a place to keep his parents safe, already they had been pushed too deep into their home by the flames, the last safe haven against the raging inferno they were already within, his parents bedroom. As the fire frenzy increased, his thoughts flicked like a dying flames remembering how this madness had all began, all because of him.

It had started like a bad Hollywood movie, a bunch of drunks and a rabble of ignorant idiots with burning brands and shotguns, gathered outside his family home, demanding they send John out. His father stood out on their porch defending him and his wife as they stayed locked in their home.

"Go home to your wives and family people; my son has done nothing wrong!" David Allerdycereplied.

"Your son's a mutie freak we gotta protect ourselves from them!" A fat burly man replied, known to friends and enemies alike as a Kelvin 'Warthog' Williams. Leader of this little group of imbeciles that named themselves Friends Of Humanity in this part of the outback.

His father continued to talk to them, reason with them. To John his father was always a hero, he stood there taking their abuse and ridicule and talked to them trying to make them stop before it was too late. They ignored him so he at last threatened to call the cops but they just got angrier till they finally had enough of his voice. Then the true insanity began, a burning torch was thrown at their home, it landed on the roof his father had just finished re-tarring before they showed up. Instantly the fire took hold, and within seconds the roof was ablaze, and the fire was out of control.

"Honey, you have to leave!" his mothers thoughts ripped about the memories of moments before.

John's limited focus snapped for an instant as his mother's voice penetrated his mind that was all the time the flames needed to consume more of the half burning room. Before he could even try to gather his focus to slow the flames, she grabbed his waist and dragged him to the adjoined bathroom.

"MUM! STOP IT, I CAN HELP!" He protested, and fought against her grip. They both stumbled and he hit his shoulder against the bathrooms doorframe, numbing his arm. He pushed her away from himself and grabbed her shoulders to make her focus on him.

His mother Eve Allerdyce, she was a small woman with a big heart and face that could always make him smile. Of what he truly loved about her was her red hair, red as the flames that were trying to consume them. More than her hair it was the fact she had always believed he was special, always believed him whatever crazy story he came up with about dingo and alligators stealing his homework.

"You know what I can do mum, I can stop the fire" he tried to reason with her as he stopped the flames from overwhelming them all.

"It doesn't matter son, you have to get out of here" his father voice came from behind him.

John turned and tried around to tell his dad that he could help "DAD I CAN STO-" before he could talk anymore his father had sucker punched him in the gut driving all the air out of his lungs, he tried to gather his breath and his scattered thoughts as his father caught him before he collapsed to the floor.

"I'm sorry son but this is for your own good" he whispered in his ear as he half carried, half dragged him in to the adjoining bathroom, his mother trailing behind them with tears flowing down her beautiful face. In their wake the flames grew and ravaged the rest of the house and the noised howled behind them in victory.

'Dad, no don't do this, please' he begged and screamed in his mind as his was no longer capable of any physical movement.

His father grabbed his head and forced him to look at him, all he could force his mind to see was he grey eyes everything else was a blur of oranges, yellows and red.

"You have to remember son, your mum and me we will always love you" His voice was gravely and intense with emotion.

"Dad-" he whispered hoarsely it was all he could get out, his voice lost in the chaos and noise of all he knew burning before his eyes, blackness was closing in on him and he last sight he saw the madness of oranges, yellows and reds, accompanied with the beautiful voice of his mothers voice.

"Good night my little Saint"

* * *

He woke up with a scream fighting to get out of the back of his throat, his breathing harsh and erratic in the silence of the night, even to his own ears, his body drenched in sweat.

Instinctually his right hand shot out to his chest, his fingers fought clumsily and tried to grab hold of the small medallion that he always wore around his neck. Finally after a few scratching himself a few times he managed to clasp his fist around the small piece of engraved stone. Closing his eyes, he slowly he controlled his breathing and regained his composure.

Slowly he opened his eyes hoping he hadn't woken his team mates and friends, but looking back at him from with the darkness were two red burning eyes. Remy, his mind told itself, that's who he woke up.

"Just a memory mate, nothing to worry about" he whispered in the darkness.

"What about, mon ami?" Remy's smooth Cajun voice asked from the shadows he so perfectly blended in with.

John smiled his trademark maniac grin in the darkness, knowing that the cajuns demonic eyes would be able to see him perfectly as if it was day.

"About our old mate St Jude"

St. Jude, the patron of lost causes, the patron that Remy had introduced him to and they both introduced to their good mate and team member Piotr Rasputin to when they found him, in the middle of a Siberian blizzard, after they took him some place safe and warm.

St. Jude, he was their saint, the one that helped keep their sins hidden with the ever needed help of his little acolyte Remy LeBeau.

"One day mon ami, the fires of hell shall burn for us non?"

If he could see him, John knew he would have his trademark smirk on his face, the one that sent the women wild over him.

"One day comrades" the voice of Piotr rumbled quietly from John right. His voice as always was serious even when he was joking.

"Yeah mates, and when they do we'll let everyone know who really rules hell" he replied with a laughter edged with madness of oranges, yellows and reds.

Any one who may have even possibly overheard them would think they were joking about damnation, and old joke that they have voiced countless times, regardless of whether they had company or not. But for these three young men, it was a reflection of their past sins. John knew his greatest sins, and that of Piotr but he only knew some of the sins of Remy Lebeau. The ones that forced him to go seek company with those similarly damned, to try and save some of their souls even if his own had no chance of redemption. They were the Sons of St. Jude.

"Get to sleep mes amis, we gotta long day ahead" Remy told them before turning.

"Good night comrades" Piotr rumbled.

"G'night mates" John replied and silently wished that none of them and any more bad memories resurfacing within their dreams.

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OK, so hope you review and gimme some feedback on anything, don't matter as long as it helps me to continue writing this story. I'm hoping that I can give a different angle to all them other fanfics out there.

So please Review


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own anything, not even the shirt on my back…. (It belongs to my brother . )

Summery: AU Origins of the Acolytes, and the darkness that they hold within.

Ships – Mainly romy later on in the story.

St. Jude – Patron Saint of Lost Causes

Ratings: Mature

* * *

**The Sons of St Jude**

Chapter 2: Memories of Ice

Piotr watched solemnly as his friend, St. John Allerdyce twisted and turned in his sleep. He knew what type of dreams troubles his little fire obsessed friend, they were the similar to his own. They were the memories of their own sins, the good they never did, and the evil that they did in consequence of such inability.

He stifled a sigh, as he watched John fall back into a restless sleep, not wanting to disturb him. Not that any of them ever got a good night sleep anymore.

He watched as his friend succumbed to the spell of the sandman, his hand unconsciously he reached for the small stone tied on a chain around his neck, the stone just like the one Remy's and John's depicting St. Jude. With the medallion clutched in his hand, he brooded over his thoughts of his comrades. Sometimes he envied his Australian comrade, the way he could be so carefree in front of others, unaware, indifferent to others opinions of him. The fact that his sins never bother him, well at least during the day, only in hiss sleep do they ever creep up on him, like tonight. Luckily for his little friend that rarely ever happened.

His own sins on the other hand haunt him during his waking moments, during the lulls between whatever task they had to do. Oh, how he hated those quiet times, when his own sins would come to haunt him, and how he is ever grateful for his over hyperactive comrade, bless his soul.

* * *

The blizzard of snow and ice raged though the desolate plains of rural Siberia. The sub zero temperatures, the harsh environment, made a desolate living for any humans unlucky enough to exist in this harsh terrain. 

For months now rumours have floated through taverns and inns and any form of rent a living place. Rumours of a giant that haunts the wastes of the freezing cold, mourning for that which he will never find. Whatever that he seeks, no living human knows, stories have spread that any who are unlucky enough to meet him end up severed limb from limb, others tales speak of a cowardly giant, that runs from all he meets. Whatever the truth is none truly know, except on one fact, the time he appeared resulted in the destruction of an entire settlement, a place that never made it to the annual county fair to trade wit its fellow towns, thus were people sent to investigate. Any who have ventured to the destroyed town speak of its complete annihilation, not one building, not one stone, door or panel remains. All have been shattered, what remain are ruins. The devastation of the town made its fellow neighbouring towns nervous, but what truly frightened them was the fact that no one was found alive, not even any bodies were found. Just snow, ice and ruins.

Several miles away, from the devastated town, there was a mountain range. A mountain range, riddled with trails, caves, blizzards and avalanches, a perfect place for the monster to flee and hide.

Within a forgotten cave, he sat watching the dying embers of his campfire, a fire he didn't even need. It was obsolete, irrelevant to his survival anymore; his body no longer needed the warmth to endure. The changes that came upon him were frightening the first time they occurred.

He remembered saving the life of his sister Illyana, he remembered the rampaging wild bull, the red eyes that spoke his doom. He remembered scooping up his sister, the flash of her blonde hair catching the sunlight, her blue eyes wide with terror and then he felt the desperate desire within in to save all that remained of his family. With his frenzied desire to save his sister, his family, he felt his skin and body shift, ripple and reform. Changing his very own physical being all to save his sweet innocent little sister. He remembered the charge of thunder of the bulls' hooves, then the impact of against his back, for a moment there was complete silence. He then heard some erratic thumps of hooves against the snowy ground. Then a large thud that seemed to awaken him allowing him to move again. First he looked down at his little Illyana, to check to make sure no damage was done to her, she was looking back at him her he beautiful eyes wide with wonder and amazement. He remembered hearing irregular wheezing, turning around, but keeping Illyana behind him, in case the bull charged again. His sight landed on the wild bull, no longer wild but distressed trying its hardest to stay alive, its eyes now dazed, no longer full of rage but fear, pain and another emotion he was unfamiliar with back then, a emotion that was now the centre of his pitiful life; despair.

The past is a terrible thing to remember, for it wasn't the death of the bull that unnerved him. From his point of view, it deserved everything that happened to it, how the dumb brute dare try to attack his beloved sister. No, it was the events that occurred after the wretched bull's death, events that seemed to overwhelm him and sweep away all that he held dear in his life, like an avalanche.

With hindsight, the knowledge that now belonged to him was devastating, for it was all due to him that the following actions occurred. The trade he made with the town to never harm hi sister and he would accept their judgement, regardless of the fact if they believed him to be cursed or not, it didn't matter to him what they did to him, all that mattered was Illyana.

Then followed a vision that would forever haunt him of his Illyana in all her glory, her blonde hair, glistering in the morning light, her blue eyes charged with righteous fury. She stood with poise and confidence, chastening the town folks, reminding them of all that he had done for them, helping with the harvest, saving the life of a pregnant mother and her child who were going into labour. She was stunning and a terrible sight to behold, as he stood by, bound by chains and watched his twelve year old little sister bring shame upon men old enough to be her great grandfathers. He was bound buy steel chains as he watched his sister be branded as a witch for she had shamed men with too much pride, watched as death was sentenced on his beloved sister at the hands of the town folk, his own guilt of being bound, unable to go save her as she was desperately trying to save him.

Watched unable to do anything, no matter how much he struggled, hoping to save all that remained of his family as she was tied up and thrown in to the icy depths of the river. Watched as she never resurfaced again, knowing that she had died all because of him. Then came the rage mingled with the agony of loss, his mind, thoughts and emotions, became like a blizzard cold, harsh, uncaring, unseeing and unforgiving.

Afterwards he remembered nothing; his first sight as he became conscious of his action was ruins. He remembered the bodies, ripped apart as if by a crazed beast or a monster, the terrible feeling that sank within him that made him believe that he was the crazed monster that did this. He knew instinctively at that moment that nothing he did would ever absolve him of his crimes, his sins. Not that he would ever seek forgiveness for his actions but he knew guilt, guilt for not being able to save his sister. He felt no cold, no hunger, nothing but guilt even in his monstrous form. Knowledge of what his sister would tell him to do, to not get caught, drove him to collect and bury bodies in the icy plains of Siberia. Later he went to the mountains; unable to remain in such ruins that reminded him of his guilt, reminded him of his sister.

"You know mate, it's a terrible shame to let the fire to die out like that?"

The voice was unrecognisable to him, but he moved faster than he ever thought himself capable of and had the intruder that discovered him against the cave wall, his hand wrapped around his neck. He looked at the fiery red and blonde haired teenager before him, he was smiling, even though Piotr could have snapped or choked him to death before he could possibly make a move.

"Who are you!" he shouted at the boy.

"Me mate?" he asked with a puzzled face

"Well I'm the infamous St. john Allerdyce, at your service, all the way from down under, from the glorious island of the sun, Australia mate." Once again the fiery haired boy was smiling.

"How did you find me?" reinforcing his question by slamming the boy against the wall again, worry had him asking before he could think twice, for if could find him anyone could.

"Well that would be because the devils looking for you mate, and I'm here to make you a deal"

"….Who?" he queried loosing his grip on the boy.

"Here" he said ignoring his question, and he showed something glinting in his open palm offered to him. It was a necklace connected to a stone, showing a man, he looked at the boy about to asking the meaning of all this, what did he want, what is the necklace for, before he could ask he spoke.

"Its St. Jude mate, he's the patron of lost causes" he whispered reverently.

"For people like you and me mate".

"I AM NOTHING LIKE YOU!" came his instant harsh reply.

"I am a monster" he murmured, walking away from the boy and sat himself near the dying fire.

"Why because you look like that???" the boy challenged him, the medallion clutched in his hand, the chain dangling between his fingertips.

His head instantly came up to berate the boy, of course he looked like a monster, all steel and bigger than any human had any right to be. He gaze landed on the boy smiling face, a smile that spoke to him of madness.

"Well guess that make two of us, huh?" his arm stretched out to the dying flames, empty hand spread wide.

Piotr watched in amazement as the flames were brought to life before his very eyes, watched as they changed to show two people within a cave, one sat watching the fire the other had his hand stretched out towards it. Changing it; bending the naked flame to his will.

"Pretty isn't it??" John asked with a mocking smile

"How is that possible??" Piotr asked with amazement, and wonder.

John looked pensively at the giant Russian before he spoke. "There are people in the world, mate. People like me and you. We are supposed to be special, with powers beyond normal humans." Abruptly he stopped speaking his gaze not watching Piotr, but looking at something only he could see.

Piotr watched the young man barely younger than himself, his face youthful, his eyes spoke age. He recognised such eyes, eyes that had seen tragedy and loss, eyes that he saw whenever he looked upon and any reflective surface.

"I know what you did mate" The Australian said unexpectedly. Piotr would have killed the man there and then regardless of whom, or what he offered. Except his voice held no held no condemnation, merely understanding.

"They had to pay the price for what they did mate" The Australian reasoned understandingly. Piotr was amazed at the fiery boy; he was comforting him for what he had done to the town and its inhabitants.

"I understand what drove you mate, it's never revenge, if it was I would have burnt the whole world months ago" He smiled self mockingly his eyes resting on Piotr trying to send a message of understanding, of horrors witnessed, perpetrated and shared. At that point Piotr knew that the boy before him had done the same acts of violence, of madness, of guilt and self loathing. He looked into his blue eyes and he also knew, that just like himself the boy, given another chance, to stop, to not harm anyone in retaliation for whatever crimes they had committed upon his loved ones, he would have done the same thing as Piotr himself, he would still had made them pay.

"How?" Piotr asked, the question loaded with several meanings. What happened to you? What did you do? And who was the devil that was looking for him and what had a medallion of St. Jude had to do with anything?

Piotr watched as John turned his gaze away from him, his eyes brooding, resting on the flames. The silence stretched, for the first time since the boy had entered his cave Piotr noticed that everything that made the boy who he was seem to vanish, his smile seemed to fade away, the self-confidence ebbed, his manner changing as if the very flames that was the core of his being had died out.

When he spoke, it was less than a whisper, as if talking had become an enormous burden, painful beyond measure.

"The devil saved me, months ago. He came and gave me a reason to live." He quickly glanced up at Piotr with an intent look to make sure he was listening, to tell him that this was the only time he will ever speak of this. Within a remote cave in the mountains of Siberia, before returning his gaze back to the fire.

"I had burned a town, lost in my own grief and madness, and burnt the town so badly that even the ashes burned. For days the flames run wild, it created a massive bush fire, lost within my own grief I destroyed and took more lives than I will ever know."

He stopped for a moment as if remembering those days after his grief, the destruction he had caused.

"My family was burned to death in our home because of me. I could control fire you see, that's why I tried to help, tried to stop the flames from harming my parents. I couldn't it was too much, too soon, I had only found out about my powers two days before, when I stopped some boys from taunting and burning a little innocent baby kangaroo lost from its parents. My mom was a vet see, dad was a doctor, and they always taught me to help those that were hurt."

Again silence enveloped the fire bender, Piotr understood, he needed these silences to remember the good times.

"I couldn't stop the flames, so my parents do what any parent would do regardless of species, they saved their young. I woke up to nothing bit ash and burnt timber surrounding me. Not sure what happened after that, somehow I made it to where the bastards were who did this to me. They were having a barbecue, celebrating, as if they just hadn't killed my parents. That's when I just saw the flames the yellow and reds."

Again he fell silent, Piotr knew this was the point that he needed to face what he had done, so Piotr himself could face his own demons.

"They burned, the fires burned, and so did they all, man, women, child. It didn't matter they all had to burn, the fire demanded it and I needed it" Piotr heard the desperate denial in his voice, to unmake the past trdegies that had befallen him, but never the repayment of them.

"He came for me days later, showed me a way to live, a way that would make it so no one else had to carry sins such as ours. So that others like us never feel guilty for killing anyone." He turned and smiled sadly to the giant Russian and spoke with resignation "After all mate, were already going to hell, may as well make sure no one else has to join us" He was always smiling Piotr realised, barely ever did this boy never smile.

"Well time to meet the disciple of St. Jude mate" John got up, walked to Piotr and again offered him the medallion of St. Jude. He thought about what the boy had said, it was true what he spoke they, were already sentenced to eternal damnation. Would it not be better to make sure that no others would have to join them he questioned himself? He knew even if he were to die, he would never be absolved of his sins, never gain will he be able to see his parents, his little Illyana but should others have to fare the same fate as his, John's and this devil that he spoke of? He knew the answer to these questions before he had even finished asking himself them.

His hand clasped with John's and he took the medallion from him, John smiled in acceptance, Piotr gave a grim smile in return.

Days later within the middle of the night in Moscow he had met Remy LeBeau; the one John had called the disciple of St. Jude, the one that was the devil that had an offer for him. That night he had become a Son of St. Jude, patron of the lost.

* * *

"You should get to sleep to sleep Pete" Remy's smooth voice filtered out from the shadows. 

Piotr looked to where the voice came from "There is something's comrade, whom the shadows and darkness of sleep will not let us hide from."

He heard his friends soft chuckle from the shadows, he must have had his eyes closed or facing away from him Piotr reasoned, in order to not see the burning red gaze of his demon eyes.

"Sleep we have a long day ahead of us" He replied.

Piotr reasoned it would be best to take his advice as it seemed Remy wasn't in a talkative mood tonight. Not that any of them were whenever one of their dreams became memories that haunt them.

"Good night comrade" he whispered into the darkness and laying down, knowing that he had heard him even though he never replied.

* * *

**A/N: Well hope you enjoyed this chapter took me ages to type it up: P**

**For all you people that felt sorry for John, I have to feel sorry for Piotr more, after all John remembers the aftermath of his grief as only fire and ash, where as old Petey had to deal with burying dismembered body parts. **

**Hehe I 'm evil I know **

**Thanks for the reviews guys, hope to see some more feedback, good or bad no matter to me.**

**Next Chapter: will be x-men and other situations. Sorry for being vague but I don't want to give too much away. Btw this is set after apocalypse has been either stopped or released, still haven't decided yet, but you get the general timeline, but definitely set after Cajun spice, or and I may change the fact that Remy and Rogue already know each other before x-men not sure but Cajun spice will still takes place, you guys decide **


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own anything, which is a pity because then I would have more time and inclination to continue writing stories.

Summery: AU Origins of the Acolytes, and the darkness that they hold within.

Ships – Mainly romy later on in the story.

St. Jude – Patron Saint of Lost Causes

Ratings: Mature

A/N: Hiya guys, I was told I had some grammar and punctuation mistakes so I will try to a lot better in this chapter. Also there won't be a complete chapter of Remy's past like Piotr and Johns. His will be doled out as the story progresses, like in the comicverse after all the he is **the** international man of mystery Well on with the story!

**The Sons of St Jude**

Chapter 3: Present Moments

He watched within the shadows as his friends mimicked the appearance of being asleep. He knew that the actual act of sleeping was denied to them all for the rest of the night, not that there was much left of it to slumber through. Soon they would come for them, alliances could be given, proposed and accepted within a moments notice, but trust was never given so easily and if ever, rarely. Experience had thought them that long ago.

He still couldn't stop finding the situation amusing, here they were locked in a supposedly unbreakable cell, where not even the Juggernaut could break out of. He had already found several ways to escape from it within moments of entering. It wasn't the cell itself that brought him such dark amusement though, it was its location. Situated underground beneath the mansion merely meters away from them was Cerebro. A machine, that Magneto has wanted to destroy throughout his countless rants of mutant supremacy.

He shook his head, dispersing such inconsequential thoughts, because as of this moment he had other tasks to occupy his mind. Tasks that will see that the Sons of St. Jude make it out unscathed from any confrontation between the X-Men and themselves, after all it wouldn't be good to kill the object that brings gumbo to the table he thought wryly.

It had been three days now since the X-Men's green eyed Rogue had imprisoned Apocalypse back into the Eye of the Ages. Three days of being imprisoned in this cell, courtesy of the generous X-Men, three days of keeping their mental shields up so none of them damn spooks could ever enter their minds. Another day more and even he wouldn't be able to stop John from burning this place down in frustration, if he ever found a spark that was. Then again he already knew how resourceful Johnny boy could be when it came to making himself some sort of flame. After all, his gaudy orange and red uniform served more than just the purpose of making him look like a psychotic bad guy with bad fashion sense. No one really checked what he could have possibly secreted away in that tacky thing, he reminded himself sardonically.

His thought flickered to the man they named Wolverine it was at his insistence that there would be no visitors to their cells, none but him. Not that any of the ever so good and righteous X-Men would ever deign to come visit such evil little henchmen of the great and evil Magneto he thought mockingly.

Regardless of how low their opinions were of himself and his friends, how they were the ones that made life for mutants needlessly harsh. It was ironic really considering that they needed some so called evil mutants to fight, to let the world know that mutants were not all that bad. It would be something that his crazy cousin Lapin likes to call the circle of life, just like how Thieves killed Assassins and vice versa. This place is kinda like back home he thought ruefully, but here he had to remind himself, nobody dies at least that was some sort of blessing in disguise, no more innocents on his soul………for now…….because he knew just as his friends did, that regardless or whether they wished it or not more souls will be added to their sins. It was just a matter of whether it would be by their reckoning or of that of others. Innocent or those that are sinners, those were the only choices left to them.

His thought moved from such morbid contemplation to those of his cousin. Remembering his cousin's addiction to Disney movies, that crazy little man, also remembered his network of information that would have put even Mossad to shame.

Such memories didn't belong to the here and now. The _now_ demanded that he work out how to keep his amis safe. Violence was not an option that he knew, not unless he wanted to kill all the occupants of the mansion, not that that was even a remote possibility. For neither he nor his amis would ever harm a child, they couldn't even if would cost them their own lives. Such a price they could never pay not unless they wished to destroy what little remained of the last remnants of their own shattered happy childhoods, and such a price was too high. So all that was left to him was diplomacy and it would seem that the time had come for him to use the silver tongue that he stole from Le Diable.

In the shadows of the cell, watching his companion's fake sleep he waited, the man known as Remy Lebeau, Ex-Prince of The New Orleans Thieves Guild, The Prince of Thieves, the man cursed as Le Diable Blanc waited for the sun to arise, for the Wolverine come to give them their breakfast and unbeknownst to him he would give them much more than he could possibly imagine.

* * *

Sometimes, he reluctantly admitted it was a fucking chore being who he is.

"Fucking Magneto, fucking Apocalypse, and fuck the fucking Acolytes" he mumbled to himself, as he walked once more on his new duties to feed some kids. Kids that as far as he will ever be concerned are a bunch of useless little inbred pieces of shit, which should have a nice conversation with himself and his six little friends.

It did feel good sometimes to relive tension in other ways than just violence but only sometimes. Any other occasion, nothing beats his nice not so little six friends, they could always but him in a good mood. Well that and some of the more sassy students of the mansion.

"God, why can't the professor just mind wipe ol' bucket head and his little posse of bitches?" Logan asked himself.

"Don't ask me Logan, I just came to see Hank" A soft southern Mississippian voice answered him.

Logan stopped for a moment to asses the person that stood in front of him, one of the few students that actually didn't piss him off by just being in his presence. Come to think of it the girl only known as Rogue was the possibly the _only_ student that he didn't want to gut as soon as they opened their mouth.

Looking at the child of the south, he had to admit if it wasn't for her mutation she would have given Jean Grey a.k.a Miss Perfect a run for her money. Considering the fact that she was average height, slim build but curves that would let any idiotic non-blind male know that she was defiantly a female, if not a girl on the cusp of womanhood, as Ororo Munroe was fond of saying.

A heart shape face, full pouting lips asking any male that looked her way to just bloody well kiss them. Hell! Them lips should be labeled as weapons of mass destruction to any teenage little shit, and some older guys as well.

And dear god don't even try to have him talk about her damn chest, he already had to talk to more than a few of the hormone ridden little bastards that Xavier like to consider his innocent children ogling them, the little fucking retards.

Yep, lucky for her she never knew or actually saw what the perving little bastards do in their past time, never noticed that she was considered to be by all them little fuckers 'the dream girl' and as far as Logan was that's all they will ever get to be, the retarded fucks.

He had given each of the little shits what he liked to call 'The Talk' as soon as they realized that the thing between their legs wasn't just used for pissing.

Heck normally he would be more than happy to let Hank take up such a distasteful task but he had insisted that he should, after all he never interacted with the students unless it was a Danger Room session as he reasoned with the Professor. After the Professor had agreed happy and whole heartedly to let him inform the little shits about the 'process of manhood' as he described. He regretted ever letting him interact with his precious angels on such a delicate matter, the poor bastard never knew what hit him.

Since the infamous 'Talk' consisted of taking them away one at time letting them watch the usual sex education tape showing the consequences of sexual intercourse, as the video described. He would then sit opposite them, breath the air for the tell tale signs their levels of testosterone increasing and ask the kid how he felt and if they had any questions. They always answered 'no, no questions Mr. Logan' and then he would nod gently in return with a beatific smile as if he understood, and the kid would sigh in relief. And that was when the real talk kicked in usually consisting of castration, dismemberment and watching their own hearts beat before their own eyes. All on the condition that if any of the little pricks ever acted like a bunch of perverts at Rogue or any of the Institutes girls, they should rather kill themselves than let him get to them. Then he would go on a list which consisted of anything that he deemed inappropriate, thus effectively making sure none of the little shits ever ogled any of the girls, especially Rogue.

He had given that talk to everyone but her brother Kurt and poor unfortunate Scott. Of course, THAT poor bastard was too hung up on his precious Jean to ever really notice anyone else.

Yep, he concurred, it was a good thing that she could never touch otherwise more than a few of Chuck's little angels would be singing in heaven by now, he thought smugly.

But what really always caught Logan's attention was never her figure but her eyes. Green as the forests of Canada, eyes that Ororo had told him on more than one time, which hold back a storm of emotions and desires. It was her eyes that always caught the faculties' staff off guard. Even Hank and Chuck had once admitted to him over their monthly poker night, that her eyes had a way reading everyone in a manner that no telepath ever could. As if they looked into your very soul and judged, weighed and either found you wanting or she saw something inside you that was precious and even you yourself didn't know about.

It was always that 'something' which decided whether or not you would be fit to be in her company. Even if she did act like a bitch as some of the students regarded her to be, considering that was the way she treats everyone, it was one of the things he liked about her. She's always acted as she pleased, did what ever she liked, a true rogue, kinda reminds him of himself.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long delay and stuff, got exams and other stuff occupying my time. I know that the chapter is really short, but it's just a rough draft, something to tie you guys over till I finish my exams and finish this chapter properly. As usual any feedback is welcome, especially in regards to this rough chapter draft thingy, so I can improve and repost it. : ) 


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own anything, not for lack of trying that I can assure you!

Summery: AU Origins of the Acolytes, and the darkness that they hold within.

Ships – Mainly romy later on in the story.

Ratings: Mature

**The Sons of St Jude**

Chapter 4: A Demons Whisper

Location: Professor Charles Xavier Office.

Time: 17:06

Say what you will of Erik Leshneherr a.k.a. Magneto, Master of Magnetism, Mutant Terrorist and Human Hater. To his daughter Wanda he was her betrayer, to his son Pietro the father whose approval he seeks. To the humans he is a monster, and to the man seated before him in a wheelchair, an old friend, an old adversary, but above all these titles the man known as Magneto has always been foremost loyal to the Mutant Cause.

Charles Xavier looked upon his once friend, old enemy and recent ally; old memories swirled in his mind, of talks and plans, of heated discussions and arguments and the parting of ways. Here once again he saw a chance to rekindle an old friendship, working together to accomplish old dreams, but more importantly of saving three misguided youths locked within an inescapable holding cell for the past three days.

"Their loyalty is to the Cause, not to me" Erik's solemn voice broke through Charles thoughts, bringing to focus the reason they were in his office once again, to save the boys from themselves.

Charles mentally sighed in exasperation at the same answer that Erik had been giving him for the past three days.

"That maybe so old friend, but I'm sure a word from you would go a long way in helping them see the right path."

Erik's eyes narrowed at Charles's words, his voice was a silent whisper more deafening than thunder as he asked "And what is the right path, old friend?"

Realising his mistake too late, a mistake he can only chalk up to mental exhaustion Charles let loose his formidable mind to the task of calming his volatile friend and spoke the words of diplomacy he is renowned for.

"The path Erik which would allow these children to be children and not soldiers, the path that would have so no child would fear for their lives for being a mutant. The path my friend, that would enable you to be a father once more."

He watched impassively as his last words delivered in a quite sombre voice caused Erik to flinch and collapse into the armchair, words that seemed to tear up something inside him, an old wound ripped apart to be revisited. His eyes were lost in old memories, witness to truths only Erik himself knew.

It would be simple exercise of Charles's mutant gift to simply slip in quietly and watch Erik's private torments. As the foremost, strongest telepath in the world such a thing would be simple for Charles Xavier, yet what was stopping him was his own moral code, without it he would be no better than Bolivar Trask. A man who unreasoning hatred of all mutants caused him to utilise every means necessary in order to exterminate them, including and not limited to the experimentation on children.

It seemed an age to Erik as his memories overwhelmed of past crimes against his own flesh and blood, Wanda. His own personal demon, the one he had failed to help time and time again.

Wanda, Pietro's twin sister, to save his son he had to sacrifice his daughter. A truth no one knew, the choice he made that no father should make. Once he had her sent away, he couldn't bear to be near his son and had to send him away too, this time to save his own sanity. Now it was too late to save any of them. He had failed them all.

With a burst of supreme willpower he brought himself back to the present, to look at his friend and he saw guilt and compassion in his gaze. The guilt he knew was there for causing him pain and the compassion, that too for he knew of the difficult choices a father must make. Yes, Erik knew about Lucas or David, Charles's own wayward failure.

Erik held Charles gaze for a long moment before voicing his decision "I will talk to them".

Charles nodded once showing his acceptance, even if he would have liked more from him, he understood that the gesture itself was also in regards to Erik himself.

* * *

Location: Xavier Mansion, Living Room.

Time: 17:06.

Scott sat impassively with his newly minted girlfriend and long time not-so-secret crush, Jean Gray, watching and silently listening to the worried chatter going on around him. The concerns of all here were not in regards to the current situation of the Brotherhood, who were temporary staying at the mansion or even the fact that Magneto is an honoured guest of the Professor. No it was in fact because of the Acolytes.

"Or Ex-Acolytes, if the Professor can change Magneto's mind." Jean whispered in his mind.

Scott frowned slightly; knowing Jean was inside his head privy to his thoughts was nothing new. They had shared a bond since they first met here at the Institute, no it was with the idea at the end of such a thought that gave him concern.

"Where would highly trained and dangerous mutants go, and what would they do, if they were not following Magneto's orders?"

He felt the touch of Jeans hand wrap around his and the calming comfort of her words and her simple presence through their psychic link easing his concern.

"I'm sure the Professor knows how to handle this situation, Scott. There's no need for worry."

He glanced at her for a moment letting catching her attention over the hysterics of the younger mutants before replying "I hope your right, and if there trouble...."

"We'll handle it like all the other times" She reassured him.

"BOOM-BOOM!" Kitty shrieked.

The girl called Boom-Boom a.k.a. Tabitha Smith looked up innocently at Kitty Pryde.

"I'm just saying Kitty with such hunks, the singles women here would appreciate some of our own action. It's not like we all got ourselves bad boy like you have" Tabitha replied reasonably.

Kitty stared in shock before rallying her thoughts against Tabitha's accusation.

"Lance isn't a bad guy! He helped us against Magneto and Apocalypse, he was there when we needed him!" she protested.

Tabitha looked thoughtfully towards Lance slouching against his armchair without a concern in the world. "Your right Kitty, I'm sorry."

Hearing her words Kitty relaxed and opened her mouth to accept her apology, but before she could speak Tabitha continued.

"After all he is a pretty lame bad guy, since he always seems to get knocked out the same way in every fight. You'd think a guy would learn, but whaddya know, he never does?" Tabitha shook her head in mock pity at the slowness of Lance.

Glancing at Kitty who still had her mouth open in shock Tabitha brought the conversation back to what was important, three hot guys locked in a cell.

"So whaddya girls think about our mysterious prisoners?" she asked the room's single female population. Which considering there was only currently Rahne, Jubilee and Amara, and Rahne being underage, left Jubilee and Amara to keep the conversation on track.

"Who gives a damn how hot or cute you think they are Boom-Boom, they dangerous, yo" Todd Tolansky a.k.a. Toad, reiterated his point for what seemed like the thousandth time.

Tabitha rolled her eyes as she let Toad tell his story of near death at the hands of an Acolyte to the group.

"He was a shadow, one second I was there making fun of Pietro and the next second the window was smashed in and I was wrapped up in a curtain, charged and ready to explode. No-one had time to move, Lance barely got out of the chair before he was speaking. Telling us of Magnetos deal, how we could be more than what we are." Toad shook his head abruptly, taking his mind away from his death experience.

"You can't trust them, they got no conscience, and they'll die before they'll give up." he finished hoarsely.

There was silence as the mutants gathered there watched in awe and shock at the raw emotions of fear that rolled off Toad. Someone they've all known to take nothing seriously, who even showed minimal respect to Mystique, Magneto and Wolverine. Three of the most powerful and scary mutants they ever known, and Toad was scared of the Demon-eyed Acolyte. The same Demon-eyed Acolyte who kidnapped Rogue only a few weeks before the entire Apocalypse ordeal. The very same mutant that was now locked in a cell below the mansion with two more equally dangerous mutants.

"He didn't hurt Rogue" Jubilee quietly stated to the group, her words breaking the accumulated tension, giving everyone pause for thought. Seeing as no one was going to bite her head off for speaking the younger mutant continued to voice her thought.

"Maybe they just need help like the rest of us; maybe the Professor can help them like he's helped everyone else?"

"I hope you right" Scott stated grimly as he stood up and walked away from the gathering of mutants.

* * *

Location: Xavier Mansion, Corridor outside Cell-A.

Time: 17:09.

Logan paused before Cell-A, thinking thoughtfully for a moment about the three residents that it contained. Contained being the correct description having already vocally gave his opinion on the matter of these three stooges. His instincts have served him true longer than he could remember, the instincts that let him trust that Chuck knew what he was doing when he asked him to train young mutants. This time though, his instincts screamed for him to rip these three mutants apart, the same instincts that made him go feral whenever he saw Sabertooth , letting loose his pent up rage.

His mind flicked back to the security tapes that he had been observing of these contained mutants. There was something about these mutants, sure they look like the kids that he taught young and naive, with quick smiles and easy laughter between themselves. Yet it was the night tapes that interested him, the sensors showed that they rarely slept, snatching couple of hours of sleep when they could. Sure they were in hostile territory and he approved the way that always one of them at any one time was awake on guard duty, but they weren't as careful as they hoped when it came to keeping their secrets. The tape from last night of the fire wielding mutant bolting upright, fighting to escape his dreams, an experience that Logan was intimately familiar with let him know that these mutants were of a different breed, his kind of mutants with haunted lives, lives that can only end one way: death.

Hopefully Chuck could change that fate.

Scowling ruefully his punched in the code that would open the door to Cell-A, he waited impatiently behind the food trolley as the cell door opened with a hiss from the pneumatic mechanism holding the cell shut.


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own anything, it's too much hassle :P

Summary: AU Origins of the Acolytes, and the darkness that they hold within.

Ships – Mainly romy later on in the story.

Ratings: Mature.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews and the feedback. Yep, know I'm a bit late on getting back to you all (understatement of the centaury). First off like to apologise, my grammar still sucks but hopefully it won't detract from what I'm trying to create. Need to work on dialogue and scene setting more. Anyhow this chapter isn't complete yet, needs more work done trying to do at least 1000 words per chappy. Also should note to all those following this story that I'm a lazy bugger so updates will be a while depending on the muse to work. BUT on a good note I have 70% of the general storyline done, just them pesky minor details to take care of like romance and interaction of secondary characters. So stick with me kid, I'll show you da world.

* * *

**The Sons of St Jude**

Chapter 5: Tricky Devils

Location: Underground Xavier's Mansion, Med lab.

Time: 17:12

"WAAAZZZAAAAHHHHH-WAZZZAAAAHHHHHHH-WAAAZZZAAAAHHHHHH-WAZZZAAAAHHHHHHH"

The klaxon blared, the sound resonating within the confines of the med lab, forcing Doctor Henry McCoy a.k.a. Beast, to slam his meaty paws over his ears in response, hoping not to have damaged his sensitive hearing at the unexpected sound.

"What in hell is that?" Rogue shouted her voice slightly panicked over the deafening noise, her own hands pressed firmly over her own ears.

Henry pried open his eyes ignoring the grating sound that he had never heard in the mansion before and looked at his patient. Her face was slightly panicked; a frown of concern and worry began to etch its way on to her face.

Grinning at her ruefully to mask his own concern, he shouted to be heard "I'm sure we will find out soon."

As if in response to his words the electronic voice of the mansion spoke to the occupants

"PRISONER ESCAPE! BE ADVISED PRISONER ESCAPE!"

Rogue and Beast gazes locked in concern as the information was processed.

"O, he couldn't have! He gave his word...." Rogue whispered hoarsely in shock.

"PRISONER ESCAPE! BE ADVISED LOCKDOWN IN PROCESS!"

* * *

Location: Xavier Mansion, Living Room.

Time: 17:12.

"What's that damn noise?" Tabitha screamed into the face of the nearest person to herself, unfortunately for Kitty that person happened to be her.

Frustration and anger that had been building up inside the diminutive Kitty at the teasing of her housemate gave her the perfect opportunity to scream some more at Tabitha.

"How the hell should I know?" Kitty's voice momentarily drowned out the noise of the mansion security system and giving her a quiet sense of self satisfaction at watching Tabitha physically recoil away from her.

The rest of the occupants who lived there at the mansion were too preoccupied to notice this side drama since they were busy frozen in dread watching as the sense of déjà vu swarmed its way back in to their collective psyche while the mansions automated defences initiated, of another time being locked in the mansion with its self-destruct countdown switched on.

The defences this time, caused the metal shutters to slam down on the windows plunging the room into temporarily darkness before the emergency lighting switched on, flooding the room with red light.

"MANSION SECURED, INITIATING DEFNSIVE PROTCOL APLHA-NINE."

Silence fell as the computer stopped blaring its warning, the stunned occupants of the room slowly gathered their wits while one voice quipped into the silence.

"At least the mansion isn't gonna blow up this time"

Lance Alvers had tried to remain calm in the high tense situation but upon hearing those words turned at looked in horror at the Bobby Drake words.

"Self- destruct? You're kidding right?"

Iceman just shrugged and grinned, replying to Lance's question blasé manner "Welcome to the X-men".

At hearing these words the room exploded in panic some screaming to be let out of the mansion, some trying to calm them whilst others simply just wanted to know what was going on.

In this chaos, Jaime Madrox the eight year old mutant, considered to all as the cute little guy, watched, waited and was the only one to hear Toad's claim "It's Him". Words which brought devilishly smile of grim pleasure to his cherubic face.


End file.
